


try again

by n_kei



Series: watch (over) me [2]
Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bodyguard, Drama, Eventual Romance, Idols, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 15:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n_kei/pseuds/n_kei
Summary: Life feels more up in the air than the last time he was at the arrival hall of the airport, but Taeyong is hopeful.





	try again

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) This is the epilogue of the original bodyguard+idol fic, 'senseless'. If you're unfamiliar, please read the first work of this series, otherwise it will make very little sense.
> 
> For those who have read senseless, I'm not sure if this constitutes as a 'happy ending', but it is the epilogue I envisioned for them. I deliberated a long time before I wrote this, I considered every word I wrote, hoping it wouldn't disappoint. Please, please, please heed to the additional tags. I hope you like this <3

Things became business as usual.

True to his word, Taeyong spoke with his management team and company, and was granted a stronger security check at the venues, with more aware and capable security team to push back when necessary, and hydrate those near the front barricades when the venues became too hot, too packed. Even the airport security had increased, though that was never an issue. Overall, the outcome was what Taeyong, no, Jaehyun asked for.

Jaehyun did not follow him to the second leg of his world tour. He did not ask, and management never gave him the green lights.

Taeyong tries not to think about the resignation letter that might appear in his email. He tries not to think whether Jaehyun will be at the airport this time around, bringing him home after another long month of performances, interviews, and travelling. (He tries, but he doesn’t succeed.)

Because he’s said so much the last time. He didn’t mean to sound clingy. He didn’t want to put Jaehyun in the position to choose between him and work. They’re both professionals, and Taeyong’s known this game, relationships behind cameras and watchful eyes, before he even debuted. It’s too great a risk. A precarious relationship and a life-long career are not equal. It may only be worth it if Taeyong finished his contract, skipped off to the military for 21 months, and came back without the intention to reunite with the entertainment business. But with his current trajectory, that’s years away. No one waits that long.

Though, to be fair, life has been whizzing past him for the last month and a half.

The thing with world tours is that they happen in a flurry of motions. One moment he’s at the salon, touching up on his hair (it has become lightning blond, to his pleasant surprise), another moment he’s at the stadium, going through one more dry rehearsal, and yet another, he is taking deep breaths, sweat sliding down his face, changing into one more outfit for the last part of his concert. The six weeks became a rollercoaster of the erratic and unexpected. There was no time to rest properly, much less to think.

Before he knows it, he is stepping off the long haul flight back to Korea, and butterflies are rising from his stomach again. The flight was ten hours and he couldn't sleep a wink. He is so. Damn. Tired. But he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He is scared, distracted, he doesn’t even ask his manager for instructions after landing at the airport. Yongjae-hyung only tells him that he'll be escorted to the secret exit just like last time, and he probably won't need to go back to the company because it's 1 am when they land. That's much too late for any company debriefing to happen.

Taeyong wants to ask if Jaehyun will be there. He doesn’t ask it.

Taeyong chews on his nail, looking out for his two pearly black suitcases. The wait is nerve wracking but short. His team’s luggage come with bright yellow priority tags, and within a minute, he and Yongjae-hyung are out the Arrival gates to face the screams (though a little quieter, since it  _ is _ late and there are less people). Taeyong immediately clams up. Pasting on a practiced poster smile, he forces one foot in front of the other, pushing his luggage trolley along with the aim of going home. Going home to sleep. To safety. Yongjae-hyung follows behind him. Then, a familiar figure materializes beside him, resting a warm hand on his arm.

The strong scent of cigarettes and white suede invades Taeyong senses, and a complicated mix of intense nervousness and familiar comfort washes over him.

Yongjae-hyung is saying something on the phone behind him, but he doesn’t hear it. The hand on his arm has his entire attention.

“I’ll get the trolley,” says the warm voice.

Taeyong feels all of the energy drain from him. He nods nervously, letting go and drifting to the side. He doesn’t meet Jaehyun’s eyes.

Yongjae-hyung immediate moves beside him, and three other security officers take the front and back. Taeyong smiles crookedly at his fans, giving a quick wave at a few cameras, and quickly shuffles to the back door area. The walk to the parking lot is quiet save for the clicking footsteps of the security personnel and the quiet squeak of one wheel on the trolley. Taeyong’s nerves would’ve grated to thin threads if they weren’t already fried to smithereens from Jaehyun’s touch.

Because holy shit. Jaehyun is here. Jaehyun is here even after Taeyong’s left for another month and a half of touring.

_ He’s here. _

He thought he messed everything up. He probably had. But Jaehyun is  _ still _ here. He makes up his mind quickly.

“Yongjae-hyung, mind if I take a cab back? I really don’t want to deal with the fans’ backseat driving tonight.” He winces. His voice doesn’t even sound like him.

His manager glances at Jaehyun, who meets his eyes in surprise, then turning back to Taeyong. “Do you have everything?”

Taeyong misses the exchange of looks, with his head ducked and digging through his pack for the black Balenciaga hat. His lightning blond hair catches the light easily, and attention is the last thing he needs. He tugs it on. “Do you have a mask?”

“You know I don’t wear those,” Yongjae-hyung wrinkles his nose. He nevertheless gives a cursory look through his bag before shaking his head again.

“Here.” Jaehyun holds out a packet of black mask, and Taeyong hesitates for a second before accepting it with a quiet word of thanks. He hopes his voice wasn't wavering as much as he heard himself.

They get to the back of the airport in a minute, and in another five, the taxi hailed for Taeyong pulls up. Jaehyun helps the driver load the luggage to the back before stepping away. Taeyong looks at him a little helplessly, then when he notices his gaze, turns back to his manager with a small, reassuring smile.

“Jaehyun, you can send Taeyong back, right?” Yongjae-hyung asks suddenly.

Jaehyun blinks. “Sir?”

“I’m leaving him to you. Something came up,” he says, waving his phone around. Like clockwork, his phone starts ringing again, and he slips into the company car before either of them can react. The car drives off a pause later.

Snapping from his thoughts, Jaehyun quickly dismisses the airport security team with a bow and a word of thanks, then turning back to Taeyong, who looks at him with uneasy eyes. He looks down, then away. “I don’t have to come along if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Taeyong stills.

A long moment passes.

The taxi driver honks at them, and Taeyong jumps maybe a foot into the air. Jaehyun snorts softly, the corners of his mouth threatening to curl up. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, bowing slightly before turning heels.

Taeyong takes a step forward. “Wait! You have time, don’t you?”

Jaehyun pauses, turning back again, but not quite meeting Taeyong’s eyes. “Yeah.”

“Then come with me.”

A muscle tightens in Jaehyun’s jaw, but he nods wordlessly, sliding into the taxi. Taeyong follows behind him, telling the driver his address, and settles back in his seat. The first ten minutes of the ride is quiet, save for the radio playing quietly in the background. There aren’t too many cars on the road, and the GPS predicts another 42 minutes to the destination. Taeyong wrings the cell phone in his hands, and itches to bite his nails. He sits on his hands instead.

“How are you?”

Jaehyun stares out the window. “I’m okay," he says after a pause. "How was your tour?”

Taeyong clears his throat, looking straight ahead. “Good. It was really good. My last stage was in Berlin.”

Jaehyun tilts his head, glancing at Taeyong from the corner of his eyes. “Direct flight?”

“No, we had a connecting flight at Frankfurt. Fourteen hours of flight time.”

Jaehyun whistles softly. “Wasn’t it only thirteen hours to fly to LAX?”

“Some shores are closer than others, I guess.”

The conversation lulls...

“How have you been?”

“Not bad.”

...and stops.

The butterflies flare up in Taeyong’s stomach again. He can feel his palms grow sweaty and tries to take steadying breaths. He shouldn’t be nervous. Jaehyun is here, he hasn’t gone. And he’s sending Taeyong back home, where they can talk. They can work something out. He thanks his lucky stars that Yongjae-hyung got the hint.

The rest of the ride is silent, but Taeyong is hopeful.   
  


Like before, Jaehyun takes care of Taeyong’s luggage while he pays the driver, and enters the password to the front door gates. Taeyong expects Jaehyun to follow him through the gates, but the taller man stands by the door, watching him with something like hesitation. He’s never seen this expression on Jaehyun before. Not in the times they’ve worked together, had company dinners, or even during sex. Jaehyun always knew what he was doing, knew exactly what he wanted, and how to get it. Taeyong sighs a little, and opens the door wider.

“Help me bring this up?”

Jaehyun stares at him, so he makes a show of pouting and rolling his eyes extra big, making whiny sounds that would either grate on one’s nerves, or melt one’s heart. But not Jaehyun. Taeyong watches a bit of the tension release from around Jaehyun’s eyes, and he lets out an inaudible sigh before gathering the luggage and pushing it along the corridor.

“They’re going to think your arms are useless,” Jaehyun comments lowly.

Taeyong huffs sardonically. “They are. My whole body feels like it’s about to fall apart. I’m so tired.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Jaehyun immediately straightens as they enter the elevator, tucking his hands behind him. He looks like he’s about to walk to the gallows. “Get some rest tonight.”

Taeyong feels his breath grow short. He tries to not let it show. “Lighten up. I was just kidding.”

Jaehyun arches a brow, and without warning, he steps into Taeyong’s personal space. Taeyong flails and takes two steps back, banging against the railing as he does. A hand steadies him at his waist (not that he was about to fall, of course), the other gently peels back the collar of his shirt. Pain relief muscle patches.

“You must’ve stunk up a storm on the flight.” The corners of Jaehyun’s mouth quirk up briefly, before he takes two steps back.

Taeyong wills his blush away. “I smell plenty good,” he mutters.

The elevator announces its arrival, and Taeyong jumps again at the sound. Jaehyun snorts and drags the luggage to Taeyong’s door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” After a short bow, he quickly turns to the elevators again. A hand stops him from walking back into the elevator.

“Want to come in for a bit?”

The elevator doors close. Jaehyun exhales and repeats, “It’s getting late. You should get some rest.”

“Jaehyun.”

He meets Taeyong’s gaze for a brave three seconds, then he looks away again. Taeyong tries again. “Five minutes. Please.”

The luggage is pushed through and left by the door. Jaehyun crouches to untie his shoelaces. Taeyong toes off his glittering dark gold chelsea boots. He gestures Jaehyun towards the couches.

"They're kind of obnoxious," Jaehyun comments after a while, eyeing the boots.

"It leaves an impression.” Taeyong huffs, indignant. “Coffee? Tea? Veritaserum?"

Jaehyun snorts. "Didn't know our resident Korean idol was also a potions master."

Taeyong hums lowly. "There are so many things you don't know about me. Well?"

"Water is fine, thank you."

“Truth serum it is.”

Jaehyun lays out two coasters for Taeyong to settle the glass on. Taeyong nods his thanks, and settles on the other end of the couch. Jaehyun doesn’t immediately reach for his water, his eyes drift back to Taeyong’s eyes, neck, hands. He looks down again.

“What did you want to talk about?”

The muscle in his jaw tightens, and Taeyong wants to smooth it with his hand. He wants to brush his thumb along the sharp jaw, tilting Jaehyun’s cheek away so he can admire the beautiful line that draws down his chin, across his adam’s apple and dipping to his collar–

The image draw to a halt. Taeyong looks away and clears his throat. “Thank you for tonight.”

He wants to say more. So much more. But a million words, a million divergences go through his head, and he gets overwhelmed and grows quiet again. He dips his head and hears Jaehyun exhale softly.

"I promised to stay."

"I know."

He looks out the window into the cityscape. The blinking city lights blink brightly in the large swaths of dark shapes. Buildings, cars, people blend into one, then into nothing. But Taeyong already feels his tension melting from the familiar sight. There is space between each light, but at the very least, the lights exist.

And maybe that’s how it is with him and Jaehyun. There is distance between them. Perhaps there always will be, but they exist. They’re here, with each other. That should be enough.

“What I said before, the confession. I’m not going to pretend it was in the heat of the moment,” he admits with unexpected bravery. “But it wasn’t to put pressure on you. I thought I was okay with the ambiguity, but it turns out I need something more. Maybe some kind of confirmation, or something to… I don’t know, prove something. Prove that we are something.” Taeyong takes a deep breath, watching Jaehyun’s face for any signs of change. But all he sees is Jaehyun’s guarded expression, muddled with confusion and something else, so he continues.

“It’s unfair to have these expectations. I just wanted to let you know where I was, if only to explain why I said those things last time.” He sighs, ducking his head and folding his hands on his lap. “And if you want out, either of this arrangement or the job, it’s fine too. I’m not going to use sex as an excuse to make you stay. Sorry for doing that last time.”

“You did send a lot of mixed signals,” Jaehyun acknowledges after a long pause. He places the cup on the coaster, and turns to regard Taeyong with a quiet, thoughtful gaze. “I was wondering if I did the right thing, leaving that night. I didn’t think either of us were ready for that conversation.”

The wry smile he shoots at Taeyong makes him smile. “If you mean we’re overcharged with emotions, leading to angry sex then make up sex, then yeah, conversation.”

“Like I said, conversation.” Jaehyun shakes his head, smirking sarcastically. “It wouldn’t have ended pretty if I stayed. We would’ve yelled at each other aloud, and in our heads, then never talk to each other again.”

Taeyong wants to deny it, but Jaehyun confirms what he knows, somewhere deep inside. “I know...”

“We might be doing that tonight anyway.”

“I know.”

“We’re not very good at conflict resolution.”

“Hey,” Taeyong interjects, scrunching his nose. “Speak for yourself. I was trying.”

Jaehyun is about to reply, but holds his tongue for the effect. Taeyong looks away. “You knew I was too. It was easy for us to fall into a routine. Being together in and out during a packed schedule day, sending you home and making sure no one follows you, overstaying… well. We were bound to want more at the rate we were going.”

There’s a sigh. It’s hard to tell who it’s from.

“I know.”

“I knew, too.”

Taeyong regards Jaehyun, who returns the look with a slight nod. “I knew, as well.”

“So unless we draw lines now, it’s hard to keep going.”

Taeyong frowns. “To what we want to be?”

“Want? We’re not children. To what we  _ should _ be.”

Taeyong sighs, tilting back on his arm chair and settling more comfortably in the dark grey slate plush. His platinum blond hair stands out like a beacon, reflecting a soft halo from the warm, muted light of the den. Something in Jaehyun’s eyes soften.

“Do you want to keep your job?” Comes the tired question.

“I like my current position.”

A pause. The corners of Taeyong’s mouth quirk up as Jaehyun coughs indiscriminately into his fist. “I’ll let that slide, because that’s too easy,” he teases quietly. But Jaehyun bites his lip, and Taeyong scoffs at how easy it is to read him sometimes. “Just say it.”

The delivery is swift and precise. “Much like you then, according to the tabloids.”

“Jackass.” Taeyong smiles.

“I do have a pretty nice piece of ass, and jack off on occasion.” Jaehyun smirks, feigning a pumping motion in the air.

“Disgusting.” Taeyong snickers. And just like that, the mood lifts to something less stifling. His fingers still find purchase along the seams of the couch, but its motions are much less restless now than they were. The nervous energy has mostly dissipated. It’s okay to let go. To move on. “Alright, that’s all I wanted to say; that nothing changes. Forget the confession, it’s not worth risking whatever we are now. If shit hits the fan, we’ll deal accordingly.” He sucks in a shallow breath, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “And… thank you for still being here, for being patient with me.”

Taeyong tries to convey his gratitude in his eyes. He genuinely doesn’t want to mess this up, whatever this is.

Jaehyun meets his eyes a moment later, and he gives a shallow nod and a small, awkward smile. Taeyong figures it’s as good as it gets.

“Hug it out?” He asks.

Jaehyun opens his arms even as he says, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Taeyong snorts and leaps into his arms, which neither were expecting, to be honest. He feels something hard hit the inside of his thigh.

“Shit–”   
“Ow–what?”

_ There was no way a conversation like that could’ve been arousing.  _ He scrambles quickly to his feet, squinting at the small rectangular  _ thing _ protruding from the side of Jaehyun’s hip. Peeking from the trousers pocket is something velvet and black.

“Are you that excited to see me?” He sneers. “What is that?”

The pause that follows lingers into something that fills his lungs up. Jaehyun avoids his gaze.

_ What the fuck… _

“It’s a box,” Jaehyun answers evasively.

“A box,” Taeyong gives his best deadpan. “Can you not have boxes in your pockets the next time you go to work? What is it for, emergency face masks?”

It’s a joke, and he expects Jaehyun to sort-of-snort, sort-of-chuckle at it. But Jaehyun keeps avoiding his eyes. And that’s when something clicks.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Jaehyun starts, like measuring the words before he speaks. Taeyong swallows thickly, feeling the nerves build up again. “Before your speech, we both knew this was not the best idea, yet we’re still here. So it’s safe to say there’s something that’s holding us together, right?”

Taeyong understands the words, but when Jaehyun meets his eyes and he notes the hesitation and vulnerability, his mind short-circuits. “Wait. Wait– Hold on a second.”

Jaehyun doesn’t stop. He takes out a box from his pocket and meets Taeyong’s eyes, which have widen to dinner plates.

“Are you going to  _ propose to me– _ Oh my god what the  _ fuck– _ ” Taeyong rambles in a screech, jumping up and taking tumbling steps away from Jaehyun, who quickly climbs to his feet as well.

“No. Oh god  _ be careful, _ you idiot.” Jaehyun grabs Taeyong by his elbow, and pulls him back before he collides into the television. “This is too big to be a ring box.”

Taeyong’s about to protest that he wouldn’t know how one  _ looked _ like. Most of his jewelry came from his stylists; he’s hardly had to go shopping since he debuted. But the black box is daunting and it’s making the butterflies go wild in his stomach, his palms got extremely sweaty, and his heart rate is skyrocketing. The confusion, apprehension, and excitement is making him light-headed. His hands fly around Jaehyun’s, holding his hands together. His eyes search in Jaehyun’s for a hint, a tip. Anything.

“It’s not a ring?” He asks quietly.

Jaehyun shakes his head once, firmly. “It’s not a ring.”

His grip loosens, and Jaehyun sighs softly. “I’m opening it.”

Taeyong holds his breath.

It’s thin necklace, with a small lock charm.

Jaehyun stares at him, waiting for a reaction. And Taeyong, well, he manages to keep standing, which is no easy feat considering how badly his legs are shaking. He gives the necklace one more look, before mentally shoving it into the closet. No. Nope. That’s too much to handle. Then he looks back at Jaehyun. “I honestly don’t know how I’m supposed to react right now,” he admits.

A pause later, Jaehyun pulls back.

Taeyong leaps out, his hand covering Jaehyun’s and the box again. Jaehyun frowns at him, a flash of hurt in his eyes. It digs into Taeyong’s heart, and he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not. That’s not what I meant. Thank you. For the gift. I like it. I just don’t know what this means.”

“If,” Jaehyun inhales, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he thinks of the best words to use. Finally, he meets Taeyong’s eyes head on. “If you give me presents, then I will do the same.”

Taeyong frowns. “The cologne…”

Jaehyun shakes his head, lips set to a firm line. “I’ve wondered in the past, if it would be okay to give gifts to my employer. It didn’t sound professional on paper. But if this is between us, and you’re okay with it, I would also like to give you gifts.”

"Between us," Taeyong repeats, like he’s not sure of what he’s hearing.

Jaehyun sighs, and transfers the box into Taeyong’s hands. “You can just play it off like you got this from your stylist.”

Taeyong shrinks back, pulling Jaehyun with him. “But I’m not sleeping with my stylist.”

“Of course not.” Jaehyun says, confused. “Wait, what?”

Taeyong stares back, equally confused. He shakes the box in his hand, the silver jingling with the motions. “Is this a promise ring or couple necklace?”

“Couple– do you have any idea how much this is? I can’t afford two of these!”

“Louis Vuitton and Unicef. And I can.”

“...Yong.”

Taeyong shakes his head, frustrated but firm. “This is a legitimate question. Because you’re saying these things, but I’m hearing something else. So tell me, what do you want?”

Jaehyun inhales deeply, running his hand through his hair with poorly concealed frustration. “I don’t know. I had a lot to think about since last we met. All I knew was that I wanted to give you something in return. The better question is what you did you want, when you gave me a gift. This is Korea, typical employer-employee relationships don’t do gifts. Isn’t it illegal, or hedges on favouritism?”

“If it’s past a certain price point.” Taeyong’s lips pull into a thin line. “Then what’s the meaning of this?”

Jaehyun stares at Taeyong like he doesn't believe it's come to this. Taeyong stares back, equally frustrated and baffled.

“Taeyong, I like you.”

Taeyong inhales.

And exhales.

“What.”

“I like you,” Jaehyun punctuates each word with a strong pause, then he adds, “you dumbass.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes. “You’re not pulling my leg here.”

Jaehyun almost has a hold of Taeyong’s thin thigh, dragging it across his body, but Taeyong twists away from him just in time, and almost falls over in the process. Jaehyun doesn’t catch him, of course. He tumbles to the ground like a pile of skin and bones, and Jaehyun snorts, crouching down to level their eyes.

“Bitch,” Taeyong snarls. “If you liked me, you would’ve caught me.”

“If I liked you any more than I do, I wouldn’t be here, making decisions that can ruin both of our careers.”

“You make it sound like I didn’t have a part in making the decision.” Something dangerous flashes across Taeyong’s eyes. “I was there, I knew what I was getting into.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes too. “We need to talk about your bursting ego. It’s not very cute.”

“Like you’re one to talk, Mr. Narcissist.”

“Come again, Mr. Idol Fuckboy?”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow dangerously at the pet name. “Only if can you make me come the first time.”

Jaehyun’s lips finally twist into a smirk. “As if you can last twice. As I recall: ‘Babe, stop, I’m too fucking sensiti-’”

Taeyong growls and leaps from his crumpled position straight for Jaehyun’s throat, who lets him and falls back (but breaking his fall with his arms, because no one likes to get a concussion). “You are  _ not _ finishing that sentence.”

Jaehyun wants to say he doesn’t have the intention to, but Taeyong decides for him by smashing their lips together. And really, there’s nothing else Jaehyun’d rather do anyway. Taeyong uses his position to his advantage as he moves his lips against Jaehyun’s, commanding and needy all at once. Jaehyun moans into the kiss, because fuck, yes,  _ finally _ .

It’s almost like the walls break down at once, and the rush of emotions crash against each other in tsunami waves. Nothing is gentle. Nothing is safe. Nothing is held back. Taeyong tastes Jaehyun languidly, deeply, fully and Jaehyun’s tongue returns the strokes wholeheartedly. His hips twist upwards when Taeyong hums into their kiss, and Taeyong smirks against his lips. He pulls away first, eyes half-lidded and clouded with lust.

“Catch me next time.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Catch me next time, or there won’t be, bodyguard.”

Jaehyun’s hardened length twitches underneath him, and his smirk widens. Jaehyun snorts. “Not dooming to make the same mistake twice. You’re getting sleep now. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

“Can you really walk away from this?”

Jaehyun scoffs nonchalantly (read: with difficulty). “Please, who do you think you are?”

Taeyong leans closer and steals a kiss. “Can you even  _ walk _ .”

And it’s an obvious no, with the size of tent Jaehyun is popping, but Taeyong doesn’t need to know that. “Get off me, fat ass.”

“My ass is  _ not _ fat.”

“Ah, right. My mistake. Your ass isn’t fat, it’s nonexistent.”

“You have a at 8 am tomorrow, for which you’ll be leaving the house in 5 hours to get your hair and make up done. I’ll bring the coffee, but I don’t want to, or need to deal with a cranky idol fuckboy.”

Taeyong glazes over the nickname. “Fuck, 8 am? Really?”

Jaehyun sighs with a shrug. “I wish I was lying. I need sleep, even if you don’t.”

Taeyong scoffs. “Please, all you do is stand around and look pretty.”

“Please,” Jaehyun echoes mockingly. “Try: pushing back rabid fans from throwing themselves at you. Standing around and looking pretty sounds more like a ‘you’ thing.”

Taeyong glares at Jaehyun for half a minute, before climbing off his lap (read: with difficulty). Jaehyun also makes to stand. They both readjust their erections.

“Anyway.” Jaehyun brushes his pants down, straightening his shirt and meeting Taeyong’s eyes with an air of stupid professionalism that makes Taeyong want to punch and kiss him. It’s a little confusing, so he goes with staring blankly. “So long as you’re happy with this, whatever this is, we can keep it between us, just like everything else.”

Taeyong hums, a little dazed.

“Unless this somehow changes us."

Taeyong blinks back to the present. "Do you think so?"

"No. It doesn’t change who we are and what we do. It doesn’t change how I feel, either,” Jaehyun inhales deeply. “I still don’t care about titles, as long as I know that at the end of the day, you’re safe and sound.”

It takes a moment for Jaehyun’s words to hit home. But it’s well worth it when Taeyong blushes bright red. He feels lightheaded again, and leans against the wall for support. Not that it matters because, true to his word, Jaehyun’s arm shoots out around Taeyong’s middle to stop him from falling already, and that kind of security is nice.

“No matter how good I am at this, you don’t have to faint at my words, you know.”

The tightness around Jaehyun’s eyes betray the light-hearted jab. Taeyong sucks in a mouthful of air and lets out a low whine. “Fuck you.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, wordlessly helping Taeyong into bed. “Tomorrow, if you’re good.”

“Please, if  _ you’re _ good.”

Jaehyun leaves the room, a bark of laughter follows his footsteps. Taeyong thinks he might be leaving him, but he returns a moment later with some floss, a small cup of mouthwash and a hard gaze that brooks no argument. He knows him too well.

“Stop babying me,” he grumbles between the gurgles. It’s a little disgusting, and Jaehyun wrinkles his nose.

“If only you were more convincing,” he sneers, waiting another minute before collecting the cup and floss. “I’m not tucking you in.”

“Of course not,” Taeyong blinks. “But you could join me.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Taeyong makes grabby hands at Jaehyun, who ignores him for all of five seconds before relenting. He presses a small kiss on Taeyong’s forehead, before his giant palm shoves Taeyong’s head into the pillow firmly.

“I have never choked someone to knock them out, but if you don’t go to sleep in the next minute, I will not hesitate to do it.”

“Kinky. I’ve never seen this side of you in bed before.” Taeyong smirks. “What happened to being my bodyguard and placing my safety as priority?”

“Go the fuck to sleep, Yong.”

His hand meets Taeyong’s halfway, and his head dips to kiss the back of Taeyong’s palm. Taeyong feels the rush of blood up his neck again, and realizes his body’s really about to shut down if this keeps up. That mixed with the exhaustion he feels in his bones, between his muscles and all jumbled in his head makes him yawn. He curls into a ball and pulls his bedsheets tighter around him.

“I’ll see you?”

His fingers linger on Jaehyun’s pink lips, that pull into a soft smile.

“Good night.”   
  


It’s been three months, and fansites and tabloids alike have caught onto Taeyong’s favourite accessory. It’s at the same time when he loses his voice from a particularly nasty cold. His fans shout their concerns and love from the sidelines of a broadcasting station, and he pulls his black face mask low while beckoning his taller bodyguard down. A moment later, the bodyguard relays his message loud and clear: It’s a gift from a very thoughtful fan, and the message and intention have grown on him.

His fans go crazy with coos and screams, then he pulls his seemingly flustered bodyguard down for another message: Thank you for always paying attention and sending your love and support!

And finally: Please don’t get sick, and go home safely.

He waves energetically, and the fans scream their gratitude and love and support again. He’s quickly ushered into his black van, bodyguard in tow.

No one notices the flash of silver on the bodyguard’s neck.

As Yongjae-hyung drives off, Taeyong smiles to himself and lets his head drop on Jaehyun’s shoulder (‘to rest, because I’m sick so cut me some slack, damnit.’). Jaehyun doesn’t even think to shrug the added weight off. He huffs with good temper, and watches outside as the grey-blue buildings darken with reflections into the skyline. Flashes of colourful lights that articulate a presence blend like wet paint with the increasing speed. He closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> If you know it, yes, I took the idea from IU's episode with her bodyguard. Thank you for reading :) <3
> 
> Tread softly,  
> Kei


End file.
